“Anyways, I’ll let you go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I might even bring a date.”
I stop rolling dough balls and look directly at the phone. “Come again?” Mom, as far as I know, hasn’t dated since Dad died. Not that I’d have a problem with it. Hell, I’ve encouraged her to get back out there. Pretty sure Michael helped her set up a few dating profiles. She usually brushed it off and said she wasn’t interested.
“It’s a friend from work. Well, from another school. He coaches a rival school’s basketball team. We met at a tournament this year and have had dinner a few times.”
I audibly huff. “You know you could’ve told me about him.”
“I know honey, but this is all new for me. Who knows what will be going on even next week. Okay, I’m off! Have fun.”
Just as I hang up the phone Michael bursts into the kitchen, face beet red. “Not sure what is going on with town today but it’s fucking wild out there. The bakery case is almost empty. Anything we can spare from tomorrow’s prep?”
“You’re lucky I made extra cookie dough for tomorrow.” I slide over a tray of Reese’s cookies and a tray of snickerdoodles. “This is all I can spare unless you plan on staying here late tonight.”
“Thank you a million. I’ll take over in a little bit so you can prep for book club. Maybe have a few drinks and relax a bit.”
“Sounds amazing.”
***
A few hours later the room is starting to settle down for book club, Sydney’s floating around delivering drinks to the attendees. Much like earlier, the bookstore is packed for the event, about forty people with books in hand.
“Thank you for coming,” I begin, taking a seat in the front of the room. Sydney drops off an espresso martini, hopefully decaf so I’m not up all night. “Last week we readColton Gentry’s Third Actby Jeff Zentner, as a showcase of what a Young Adult author can bring to the Adult Fiction space. This week we decided to feature an author named Gareth Brown, with their debut novelThe Book of Doors. Show of hands, how many enjoyed the book?”
Almost the whole room has their hands in the air, including Michael and Sydney by the kitchen door. Initially we thought the demand for a biweekly book would be too much to keep up with, but ultimately decided we could divide and conquer and switch off who read the book club books.
Which, in reality, led to all of us reading the books every meeting because no one wanted to feel left out. Plus, the perks of being a professor or working in a bookstore, was the downtime that gifted dedicated reading time.
“For those who didn’t put their hand up, what would be your critique of the novel?”
Lani, a frequent front row seater, puts her hand up in the air. “I felt pacing was all over the place. The book draws out certain moments, dragged at times in the middle, and then the end wraps up super quick and felt unresolved.”
A handsome guy behind her raises his hand. “I had some problems with the back and forth in time and locations, keeping track of it and the characters.”
The woman next to him rolls her eyes. “I’ve told you a thousand times. There are certain books that don’t work for you as an audiobook. You have the attention span of a small child, let alone remembering where you are in a story.”
This elicits a few laughs from the crowd. I take a big sip of my martini, looking over the man and woman and try to discern if they’re a couple or friends.
“I loved Cassie and Izzy though. Their friendship was easily something I could see in myself and my best friend.”
This was something I also thought of with Michael and I. I imagined what type of shenanigans we would’ve gotten into with something like the Book of Doors.
“The reason we suggested this book was because of how much this book club lovedThe Midnight Librarywhen we read it last year. It’s not the same, but it falls into that Magical Realism subgenre. We have another book coming up that will also lean that way, but want to keep the genres moving around so book club doesn’t get stale.”
“What book is that?” The handsome guy asks.
“I guess you’ll have to keep coming to book club to find out.”
Book club lasts for about forty-five minutes, but after the first half hour or so it always goes off the rails. After getting through some town gossip (which for some reason the out-of-towners love hearing about), we decide next book club pick will beMargo’s Got Money Troublesby Rufi Thorpe.
The handsome guy, Colin, hangs back and we find ourselves chatting about what we’re reading. I tell him about what books I cover in my courses, and he tells me Emma, his confirmedfriend, often picks out what they read.
“It’s nice to find a book club that offers a variety. We used to go to one at a brewery but after a while all theyended up choosing were thrillers. There are only so many Freida McFadden and Lisa Jewell books you can read in a row.”
I nod. “They have their place, but I agree. You need to space out thrillers like how you need to space out romances. If you don’t, you start to pick up on the similarities between the plotlines and run the risk of being predictable.”
I grab a couple of empty glasses and put them on the counter by the kitchen door, Colin trailing behind me. “So. You teach and work here? Sounds like a lot of work.”
I return back to my martini and drain the rest of it. “Actually, I’m a co-owner with Michael, the guy you saw floating in and out of the kitchen. He and I moved to town about ten years ago and opened the shop.”
